We're Bloody Extremists
by CooWings
Summary: Tales of Shinji and Hiyori: emphasis on their ways of communication, reading the in-betweens and being just them. Rated T for language. May turn into a series of partly independent one-shots of the two.
1. In the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** Bleach, Kubo's. Fiction, mine.

**Summary:** A normal conversation between them. Partly AU, partly not.

**Author's notes**: ShinHiyo, because I'm drugged with them. Also, this is my first attempt at this pairing. I apologize if this is in any way inaccurate.

**Warning:** Language. It _is_ Hiyori we're talking about, after all.

"Oi. Hiyori."

She did not turn to look at him, but knew that it was him anyways; the lanky man with a bowl-cut for his blinding blond hair. The man who had made to survive normally for the Vizards possible, well, at the very least, things were feasible for all of them.

When he failed to get any response from her, he decided to try again.

"Oi. Hiyori."

Still nothing.

Her pale eyes gazed a long way into the distance, her lips turned upside down into a little unsatisfied grin. It would appear that she was thinking about something. What, though; was still unclear to Shinji.

"Hiyori."

A single fang bared out from the little corner of her mouth. It wasn't the response Shinji was looking for, but he'd settle for that.

"Something bugging ya?" he asked gently, this time casting his own gaze far into the distance. He wouldn't have needed to ask her if something was bugging her or not, because it already showed easily.

She would always slip away to the rooftop of their home whenever her mind was in turmoil. It was one of the places where she could think and strangely, remain quiet.

"It's none of your business, baldy," Hiyori replied then, calling him with the signature nickname tailored specially for him; although her voice held little force.

She wasn't driving him away.

"Ya know, it's not like they're gonna go away if you keep 'em to yourself, ya know?" he added again, and this time he sat right next to her with a plop. Hiyori was never an easy nut to crack.

"Shut up, fucking baldy. I told you it's none of your business."

Shinji rolled his bead-like eyes. "Right."

Hiyori only grunted in response.

"It is my business, ya know? When Hiyori-chan became disturbingly quiet."

She glared at him, and was about to sandal-slap him on the face, when she saw Shinji's eyes. They demanded an answer.

"Tch. Fine, stupid baldy."

Silence.

"I'm not fucking sappy, but I…I just suddenly remembered the day we met!" she blurted out, her voice barely concealing the nostalgic hint in it. Shinji's lips turmed into a little grin. Hiyori glanced at him.

It was Cheshire.

"Now I really ought to worry more about ya, Hiyori. Who knew ya could be pretty nostalgi-"

"Shut the fuck up, dipshit. I ain't nostalgic."

"Noisy brat monkey. Ya know, it's not like it's a bad thing."

She looked at him.

"Least I don't go around and forget how I ever come across a noisy one like ya. Talk 'bout tough luck," he added, and the wind swept by, their clothes fluttering about in the chilly evening breeze.

"Psh. I'm the one unlucky to have the stupid thing stuck in my head, baldy."

Shinji rolled his eyes.

"Ya sure 'bout that, Hiyori? I know you're just happy tha-"

A sandal landed right on his nose, and Shinji immediately covered his bleeding nose in response.

_"Fucking baldy."__  
><em>  
>And with that Hiyori stomped off, feeling much better than before, with a little smile playing on the corners of her lips.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks:<strong> Thank you for reading! I'm still unsure if I'd continue with a solid plot for this, or I could just pile up independent one-shots. I'm trying to

gain opinions if I actually have _it_ in me to write more about this pairing. Please leave your comments/reviews! :D


	2. He Wonders

**Disclaimer:** Bleach is owned by Kubo. Fiction is mine.

**Summary:** Another one of their normal conversations. Partly AU, partly not.

**Author's notes: **ShinHiyo. Extremists because I personally find that the pair have extreme personalities.

**Warning:** Language.

It still left him wondering, even after all these years; why, above all people that he saw in those dirty streets, he had chosen to get close to her.

She was none too pretty, heck, she hardly even look and appear pretty. Hardly.

She was none too cute either, because she just wasn't. At all.

She was just Sarugaki Hiyori.

A noisy, dirty, loud, brash, annoying little monkey that have somehow, one way or the other; miraculously obtained the body of a little girl. Hell, it would probably take a whole lot of scrutinizing and squinting until one can really see her as a girl.

_Hiyori. _

"Hey."

Almost instantaneously, he broke from his daze and turned to look at her. The said monkey-girl stood just a few feet away from him, dressed in that usual flaming red jumpsuit of hers.

"Hey Hiyori. What'd ya want, huh? We already had lu-"

A firm kick planted on his face was all that it took to make him shut up, leaving his sentence unfinished, hanging in the air.

"The Hell was that for, ya annoying brat?" thundered Shinji, covering his already hundred-times-broken nose with his right hand. Hiyori raised her eyebrows, a smug look plastered on her face.

"I ain't talking bout lunch, ya dipshit," she answered coolly, her skinny arms crossed in front of her chest. Shinji glared at her, and upon seeing the forlorn expression on her freckled face, softened.

"Aight, aight. I'm sorry, Hiyori."

He knew what she was getting at, or trying to - it seemed to him, without much effort, get at.

She turned sharply away, skinny arms still crossed, draped across her white shirt underneath of her jumpsuit jacket.

"I forgot, ya know I have a lotta things in ma head," Shinji added, walking over to her. He paused for a brief moment before continuing.

". . . the city ain't gonna run away ya know," he continued, standing directly in front of her now, looking down at her.

There was no response. Hiyori could be very difficult at times, he knew. One of those times being now, right now. He rolled his eyes, and tried again.

"Hiyori."

That seemed to get her attention, even if only a bit, as she bared her sharp fang out.

"Tch, stupid baldy. Forgetting our evening stroll," she retorted finally, walking ahead of him, small knuckles shoved deep inside her pant's pockets.

"Are ya comin' or what, you fuckin' baldy?" urged Hiyori, as she noticed that the male blond was still standing at the same spot from earlier.

Shinji grinned his usual, Cheshire-grin and followed her.

"Yea yea, I hear ya," he replied, getting up on his feet.

Hiyori grunted as what could be an approval as far as Hiyori could go, but she continued muttering curses and calling him names.

"Hmph. Baldy. Stupid baldy."

Shaking his head, Shinji regarded all of those coolly, even her accurate-kick-in-the-face stunt earlier.

After all, that was just Hiyori.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks: <strong>Thank you for reading! Much appreciation to those who added this story to their Favorites as well! That was good encouragement, though reviews are still

very welcomed. :D


	3. Magic Word

**Disclaimer:** Bleach, Kubo's. Fic, mine.

**Summary:** Another normal conversation. More to AU.

**Author's notes:** ShinHiyo. I imagined there is a beat, black leather couch in the Vizards hideout. Not sure if it's existence is identifiable. Please note me on any errors/mistakes.

**Warning:** Language.

She stared at the television screen, her eyes unblinking.

Without a warning, a soft-shaded brown crisp shirt, paired with an obnoxious tie, a leather belt, and green-lime pinstriped pants intruded her field of view, effectively shielding the moving pictures she was intently observing.

It was a common sight, but unwelcomed.

"Move your ass, stupid baldy." The signature abuse, again.

Shinji pretended not to hear this, his lanky figure still ever present in front of her.

"Are you deaf, you dipshit?" barked Hiyori from the couch, her eyes now on his face. His hair still looked as if it was cropped, it always has anyway, and always will be – and the Cheshire grin was there as well.

Hiyori felt her blood boil, recognizing the familiar rush in her veins as her irritation grew. Shinji watched her as he read the temperature at which her blood was boiling.

It was a rare moment that she was able to claim a seat on the worn furniture that was _the_ couch.

The other Vizards had all gone to town, and so she was lucky.

The only ones left at the hideout were them; the monkey-girl Hiyori, and the blond baldy Shinji. They were the impulse-explosive pair, and by far the _worst_ combination – when left alone without supervision.

The said baldy was now standing in-between her and the old television.

"I ain't deaf yet, Hiyori," replied Shinji finally, his tone casual as he cast a look at her.

"So what's your damn problem baldy?" Her retort was quick, by now Shinji knew he was treading dangerous waters.

Whatever sliver of patience left in her was quickly evaporating.

This was something Shinji was well accustomed to.

"Ya ain't using the magic word, Hiyori."

She was quiet for a minute, as if contemplating what he meant. Finally, she settled for her Hiyori-style reply.

The only way she ever knew, really. Her expertise polished from years of training.

"The fuck is the magic word you're talking bout' baldy?" she snapped.

Hiyori was on her feet now, ready to sandal-slap the stupid baldy out of her view.

"Ya didn't say 'Please'."

.

.

.

He glanced at the monkey-girl sitting at the other end of the couch. A smug look was plastered on her freckled face, arms crossed.

Cursing under his breath, he continued to nurse his bleeding nose.

"_Monkeys. Ya can't ever really teach them."_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks:<strong> Much thanks to those who added this to their Favorites! I also appreciate the reviews.

To **Reminiscence-xX**, I'm glad you enjoyed reading this! I try to keep them in-persona as much as I can. To **Lulu22Temmy,** I have to wonder myself. That's just Shinji, I guess. XD


	4. Her 'Thank You'

**Disclaimer:** Bleach, Kubo. Fiction, mine.

**Summary:** A normal conversation, again. Hiyori reaffirms an object of hate.

**Author's notes:** ShinHiyo. More to Bleach-verse. The explosive pair have a talk in the morning of their return. Please note me on any errors.

**Warning:** None. Mild Hiyori? Beware of any possible OOC-ness.

"Tch, stupid baldy."

She stood at the top of the flight of stairs, still as a statue. Her hair was a tangled mess, a clear indication of a good night sleep turned bad. Her lips were curled into an upside down grin, and she looked more upset than bratty as per common. She'd dressed herself up, but clumsily, hands shoved deep into the pants of her pockets.

Shinji glanced at the clock hanging on a far end wall. The monkey was up at the wrong time, at an unusual hour.

Instinctively, he turned off his CD player, silencing the jazz music that was entertaining his ears. Apparently things just don't feel too jazz-like at the appearance of a grumpy-faced figure.

"Why goo' mornin' Hiyori," Shinji waved cheerfully, wearing his usual Cheshire grin.

Hiyori snorted at this, baring her fang out. She made a point not to look him in the eyes as she walked past.

"Oi."

Nothing.

Shinji could tell that something was off.

"Did'cha sleep well last night?"

She didn't reply, but made a grunting noise and shook her head.

"Ya didn't? What's happened?" prodded Shinji further. He thought she'd snored her way through the night as usual, after all they'd only come back home yesterday.

"_We're back."_

The horrifying war had finally ended. Victory was theirs to call, but oftentimes winning doesn't come without losing. They'd lost an awful lot.

"_Well, whaddaya all waitin' for? Get inside."_

Their bodies were ravaged, and scars serve as a permanent token of remembrance of what they had gone through to survive. The war had waged a heavy toll on all of them, but in the end of it all, they managed to emerge as victors.

"None of your business, baldy," was all she said, and that alone seemed to take all of her effort. She let her body rest against the worn couch, letting out a small sigh as she did. For the first time after what seemed like a long while, she was able to just sit and just…be there. Shinji got up from his seat and walked closer towards her.

She looked exhausted.

"Gee, Hiyori-chan had a nightmare."

It wasn't uncommon then, for Hiyori has had plenty of nightmares before. They'd come haunting her in her sleep, rudely jolting her from her slumber, and she would scream and wake everybody; summoning them from their night rest. They never complained though, and after making sure she'd calmed down – they agreed quickly that it was to be Shinji's job; they'd returned to their beds and continued to sleep the night away restlessly.

Only difference was that she didn't scream the sleep out of their system this time. The postwar shock was slowly seeping in, leaving dirty prints in her memory.

He understood this, for he too, didn't sleep well last night.

He'd woken up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat, murmuring. _"Damn that shit."_

"Leave me alone, baldy."

Shinji ignored her half-hearted protest. He crooked his head to one side to take a better look at her face. Hiyori was aware of that studious look from Shinji's bead-like eyes, but she didn't resort to pushing him away with her infamous sandal-slap.

She was just too tired.

"Ya wanta talk about it?" Shinji added finally, when he felt that further prodding would not result in his nose breaking for the umpteenth time. After all, keeping that all in wasn't doing her, them, any better.

"It's fricken dumb," Hiyori mumbled, barely louder than a whisper. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes. She just wanted all of it to go away.

"It's him again, ain't it?"

Hiyori clenched her little fists, knuckles turned almost white. Her throat tightened.

"That rotten Aizen ain't around here anymore, ya know?" He knew that that _that_ won't change anything, the monkey loathed the guy.

"I still hate him." Hiyori said sharply, loudly, her voice thick with both fury and hate.

Shinji didn't look at her. "I know."

"He sucks."

"He sure sucks lots," he agreed.

"His spectacles are stupid."

"Ain't nothing else stupider than that."

Hiyori opened her eyes, glanced at Shinji for the shortest second and closed them again. "You're really annoying, baldy."

"I sure a- wait wha?" Shinji turned to look at her. "I ain't annoying, monkey brat!"

Colour was returning to her face, and so was her energy.

It was a good sight to see.

"Tch. I don't even know why I even bother talking to a fucking baldy like you." Shinji grinned at her words, and nodded his head.

It was just her way of saying _'thanks stupid baldy',_ and he got it.

"It's okay, Hiyori-chan. We all just get lonely sometimes."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks: <strong>Whee! Thank you all for the favorites and reviews! They make me feel really good inside. :D

To **CrazedChaos,** I'm glad you find it amusing! :D To **SoraWithAnX,** Thank you very much for your kind words. I try. XD


	5. Charade

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to Kubo, fiction is mine.

**Summary: **Another normal conversation, maybe.

**Author's notes:** ShinHiyo, if you look at it that way. The Vizards got together and decided to play a little game. Please note me on any errors, thanks.

**Warning:** None. Mild Hiyori? Beware of any possible OOC-ness. Also, this might come off weak compared to the other updates. I'm sorry. ;_;

It's not like she doesn't know it. She really does, but seriously?

To act courteously, properly – to pilot swift movements with grace, that was just not her strong point.

She might not look like it, but her brain and her capability to comprehend things, matters, are actually quite alright. It's on par to humans...wait, that's not right. It's on par to other shinigamis, the Vizards. More than that, Hiyori also understands the reality of the unspoken things.

So when one day the Vizards decided to play a game of charade, she was _baffled_ when none of her teammates could come up with the correct answer when her turn came.

"Ya guys. Put in more effort into it, will ya?" Shinji sighed before walking back to the couch, taking a spot in the middle of the furniture. His grin wasn't all too Cheshire-like; he was fairly disappointed that his wonderfully sketched charade went unsolved by the other players.

"What's with the long face, baldy?" Hiyori asked, grinning. He knew it was more out of scorn than concern really, the monkey was a brat. Shinji rolled his bead-like eyes.

"Ya guys suck big time in this game," Shinji commented sarcastically, but didn't look at the monkey sitting next to him. Hiyori snickered. "It wasn't us, moron. It was your stupid acting."

Shinji sighed, unamused.

"Oi Hiyori, go on. You're next."

Knuckles nested deep in the pant of her pants, she marched to the table wearing an air of confidence, and dipped one hand into the cardboard box, fishing a piece of rolled up paper. She took one out, and unrolled it, but unceremoniously. Her eyes widened to the size of China saucers.

How the Hell was she supposed to do that? She gritted her teeth. Shinji knew something was up. "Oi monkey, ya sure ya don't wanna skip a turn?"

"Shut up baldy," she snapped, bringing the piece of paper closer to her eyes.

"_Imitate Orihime."_

"The fuck?" Hiyori hissed, cursing vehemently under her breath. She didn't like the brunette…her long sexy legs, her delicious curves, her huge rack, her long wavy auburn-colored tresses all seemed to be mocking her very existence, and so she didn't like her one bit.

But being the one who likes to be the winner in everything, she refused to step back. She will finish this in one go, and still retain her **woman**ly dignity.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself and uttered a familiar cry in her unladylike voice. It came out a bit too shrill, but nonetheless, it was quiet Orihime-like, as no one else has so infamously chanted that one name like a mantra as often as she did.

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Almost immediately, there was a chorus of what Hiyori least expected:

"Saruhime?"

.

.

.

Minutes later, the Vizards were cursing vehemently, all the while dutifully nursing their broken noses.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks:<strong> Thank you for reading, Miips! :D


	6. Little Surprises

**Disclaimer:** Bleach, Kubo's. Fiction, mine.

**Summary:** Another normal conversation. In the kitchen. Partly AU.

**Author's notes:** I imagined that Hiyori somehow was able to pick up Shinji's accent? Is that too much? Anyway, please note me on any errors. Thank you.

**Warning:** Language.

She strolled into the kitchen, wearing her signature red flaming jumpsuit. Shinji was sitting on one of the rickety wooden dinner chair, headphones over his ears, listening to his CD player, humming a jazz tune into the cold morning air.

The building, their hideout, was quiet, and only the sound of the dirty ceiling fan rotating above them could be heard – aside from Shinji's off-tune humming.

She looked at him quietly, and saw his mouth curl up into his Cheshire smile, eyes closed. For a moment Hiyori thought he looked distant; happy and almost lost in his own little world.

A little thought crept into the back of her mind, _"How was the living Shinji really like, I wonder?"_

"I'd be just about ta' same if ya wanna know," answered Shinji, as if knowing what was occupying her mind at the moment, all the while wearing the same Cheshire smile, bead-like eyes twinkling.

Hiyori let out a little grunt as a response, trying to regain her composure at being caught daydreaming about _him_ by the stupid baldy himself. She hated that when it happens. The stupid smile annoyed her, and knowing that he knows that she knows he knows she was daydreaming berated her.

"Shut your trap, fucking baldy."

Her fang was out as per usual as she sauntered lazily over to the beaten kitchen counter, her eyes running rapid scans of the area, looking for any sign of food. When all that she could find was empty cans of what should be canned food and dirty plates and unwashed kitchen utensils, she tried the fridge.

"Ya hungry, Hiyori?" Shinji asked finally, after a few lot of minutes of watching her go on her little unsuccessful food hunt.

Hiyori didn't bother to look at him, but mimicked his accent in which she gave him a reply:

"Ya think?"

Her reply caught him off-guard.

For the shortest second he just sat on the chair with a dumb look on his face, slightly surprised at Hiyori's new-found ability, awestruck.

When he recovered from his daze he turned off his CD player, and got up on his feet.

"In that case, why don't me and ya go out and get ourselves some food?"

Hiyori slapped the fridge door closed, and looked at him, long and hard.

"Ya hungry, ain'cha?" Shinji urged, when nothing came out of the monkey's mouth.

Hiyori hissed; she was used to making decisions at her own pace.

"Tch. Fine, but lemme tell you that it's gonna be on you, you stupid-head."

Shinji shrugged his shoulders, putting up both his hands in the air.

"That's fine with me Hiyori."

It was a familiar sight, one that she has come to be well accustomed to.

It was his way of saying _"fine, have it ya monkey way"_ and she got it.

"Besides I'd be surprised if ya even have a dime on ya anyways."

Hiyori snorted at this, but walked past him, elbowing his ribs deliberately as she did.

"Shut up and walk faster, stupid baldy. My stomach's ain't gonna wait all morn'."

"Aye aye, I'm comin' right after ya, Hiyori."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks: <strong>Thank you so much for the Favorites, **dream-racer-yukino** and **vampireorvampyre**! And thank you also to everyone else who read my story! :D


	7. Summerheat Irony

**Disclaimer:** Bleach, affectionately Kubo's. Fiction, mine.

**Summary:** Hiyori transforms (?) under the summer heat.

**Author's notes: **This one's a bit long, because I don't know, I suddenly got into the groove, you know? Probably because I have my own treasured machine back - my laptop is FINALLY fixed! *dances*

**Warning:** If it isn't about language, then it's _not _Hiyori.

"Hey baldy."

A well-defined, yet slim right arm moves quickly; up and down, up and down it goes.

"Whaddaya want?"

A more delicate, thin right arm moves hurriedly; back and forth, back and forth it goes.

"It's fucking hot."

It was summertime. And the bloody wind sure was being stingy today.

Not a gust, not even a teasing lick whatsoever.

"Gee, that's really genius of ya, Hiyori." It was a statement made in an attempt to annoy her, and soon after the words flew out of his mouth, he clasped his lips together. His right arm continued to work the paper fan he had carelessly folded earlier, going up and down in small, quick movements. The little "breeze" the paper fan was able to cough up could do little to stop the summer heat from eating his skin, but Hell, what was he to do?

He waited for the familiar assault that he had become accustomed to to come, but nothing happened. The infamous sandal-slap was in no shape of action today. He turned to look at his only female companion - the rest of the gang had gone God knows where, not that he was worried of course; the bunch of them will turn up once they had enough fun doing whatever it is they're doing somewhere.

It was summertime, and the highly combustible pair was left to themselves.

He looked at her, noting that she was missing an item from her usual signature outfit. Her chosen footwear lay quietly on the cement floor. Apparently, she had kicked her flip-flops off her small feet.

She sure has funny timing to give those sandals a rest today.

"Man, yer sweating buckets there."

Hiyori barely spared him a glance, her right hand tugging softly at the front of her plain white shirt, fanning herself in an attempt to cool herself off.

"Piss off, dumbass." It was a half-hearted protest. He could tell that the vicious heat was beating her usually energetic monkey-like vigor, and it was clearly getting the upper hand.

"Psh, that pathetic fannin' of yers ain't gonna help ya with anythin', ya know." She bared her fang then, the only response she could easily muster without having to make the effort to actually move really - as a sign to tell him that she didn't give a rat's ass about what he think at the moment. Shinji understood, and although he wanted to return the same gesture with the same leveled affection; he realized that he was, like her, in no form to catapult witty remarks and derogatory names her way.

"Bloody wind's a no-show today, of all days."

Shinji continued to crush the already deteriorating paper fan between his long fingers, staring at Hiyori as she continued to work on her shirt, noticing the cool beads of sweat forming rivulets on her fair skin. The ends of her hair was no longer spiky as it ordinarily would be, instead they were pointing downwards, drooping at the sides of her head.

_"Probably from all those sweat,"_ Shinji assumed. He knew it was the heat doing it, but all the same he thought Hiyori looked softer this way, and in a sense, almost endearing.

_Almost_.

That is, until Hiyori managed a "the fuck you staring at you fucking baldy" under her breath. As if on cue, Shinji rolled his eyes, mentally laughing at himself for even allowing that outrageous idea to fill his head for a span not any longer than three seconds.

The Sun was high up in the sky, and it was scorching hot.

It was at that time that he noticed another peculiar, non-Hiyori characteristic in Hiyori's sweat-drenched state. Her cheeks, those freckles had a tint of rosy pink in them.

"Oi Hiyori."

"What the fuck do you want?" she hissed, clearly agitated. And her cheeks went a deeper shade of pink. It was obvious in all her movements; the summer heat was winning, and it was winning big. Armed with this knowledge, Shinji's lips broke into a toothy grin that was undeniably Cheshire.

_"Ya look real pink there, s'all I'm sayin',"_ is what he thought of saying, but decided against it at the last second. Instead, he simply grinned, casually adding, "An air-conditioner."

Hiyori's eyes blinked once, twice. "What?"

"I said I want an air-conditioner. Where are ya ears at snaggletooth?"

Hiyori grunted, muttered something under her breath, but said nothing in response, still fanning herself. Quietly, Shinji envied the damned heat.

It was able to break Hiyori, and after a bit of contemplating - him too. He decided that he didn't mind about the heat winning this time. After all, with no one to keep them from exploding, the summer heat was actually doing a damn good job keeping tabs on them.

"Hey dumbass, you'd better be sure to get that bloody air-conditioner next time around."

More useless fanning.

It was summertime, but neither of them really exploded. Maybe summer and irony goes hand in hand as well.

"Aight fine, just pipe down already, would ya?"

Another paper fan; swish and swoosh it goes.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks: <strong>Thank you for reading and sticking with me, folks! Thank you for the fav as well, **mint ink**! :D


	8. Accidental Nose Job

**Disclaimer: **Bleach, Kubo's. Fiction, mine.

**Summary:** Shopping invitation gone wrong.

**Author's notes:** ShiYori, ShinHiyo, anything you call 'em. Took like 30 mins for this one. I'm not sure if I made anyone OOC, but if I do/did, please tell me. And if anyone has any requests/prompts for this pairing, just drop me an email. ^^

**Warning: **The usual.

"Hey baldy."

She stared at him piercingly, her eyes sharp like a hawk. Her face was void of any humor in it, so Shinji knew it was something serious.

Probably a touchy subject, even.

"Aah? Whaddaya need me for, Hiyori?"

He barely spared her a sideways glance, obviously unaffected by her sudden uninvited appearance into his room, before turning back to the mirror, adjusting yet another obnoxious necktie at the collar of his shirt.

"We're gonna go shopping."

Shinji's eyes widened for a second, quite taken aback by her sudden invitation.

"Is this a date, cus if yer askin' me to go out wit'cha I th-"

One swing of her sword to his backside did the job; he shut his mouth quickly, and he gave a little yelp as he turned sharply in her direction. Hiyori glanced at her sword. She thought it was efficient, just as her flip-flops was.

Or perhaps the sword was slightly more efficient.

"The Hell was that for? Ya know ya coulda just slap m-"

"My flip-flops are goners, dumbass."

He blinked his bead-like eyes in response to the sudden revelation, momentarily processing the newly acquired information that Hiyori had just given to him. He stared at her feet, and saw that he couldn't see any resemblance of her usually bare feet.

She was wearing shoes for once!

"Whose sneakers are those?" he questioned, a quizzical look plastered on his already ridiculous face. Hiyori grunted before answering:

"Lisa's old ones. Said I could have 'em till I get a new pair of flip-flops." A pause. "Why the Hell are you asking so many questions anyway? I said we're goin' shopping didn't I?!"

Shinji rolled his eyes, turned to the mirror once again, giving his necktie a final touch-up before turning to look Hiyori in the eyes again.

"Ya know, ya sure are a rude monkey, considerin' ya need my help," he commented offhandedly, grinning all the while. Hiyori considered beating him to a pulp right then and there, but knowing that she needed him to take her to the stores, decided against it.

"Shut up, you dumbass. I'm just returning the favor anyways," she retorted finally, hands crossed across her chest.

"Yeah fine, now let's get outta my room."

They walked down the stairs side by side, all the while throwing names at each other.

"How's my necktie? Lookin' good?"

He knew she'd come up with an insult as an answer; always had and always will be.

"You look even more ridiculous with that on."

He knew she derives enjoyment from abusing him, either verbally or physically. Wait, that sounded wrong.

"Aw Hiyori, ya don't needa complimen' me so much!"

"Fuck off, stupid baldy. I said you look ugly as fuck!"

Love noticed them as they descended, blissfully oblivious to the heated verbal war going on between them. No, more like _used _to their daily verbal assaults.

"You guys going somewhere?"

Shinji jerked his thumb in Hiyori's direction as a signal.

"Monkey says she needs a new pair of flip-flops."

Hiyori planted a quick punch at his exposed rib, and grunted. Shinji clutched at his recently injured side, cursing under his breath.

"Fucking baldy screwed up my flip-flops, so I'm making him buy me a new pair."

Shinji stared at her in disbelief.

"What the Hell? How is it my fault?"

Love looked at them. "It's your nose, Shinji."

"Wha?"

For a moment both had a dumbfounded look on their faces, seemingly at a loss at Love's little speech.

"What does the baldy's nose had anythin' to do with it?" demanded Hiyori, clearly getting annoyed at the fact that her buying a new pair of sandals had anything to do with the dumbass with a cropped golden mane for hairstyle.

Love raised an eyebrow, as if that was enough a reply to Hiyori's question. She blinked her eyes once, twice. Shinji on the other hand, continued to stare at him, still somehow confused. When he realized that the duo was still struggling to understand his point, Love sighed.

"Hiyori has her flip-flops making out with your nose every damn time," Love continued squarely, his face indifferent. Clear, crisp understanding dawned on Shinji's face.

Shinji sighed, turning to look at Hiyori standing next to him. "Pfft, ya know Love, if she wanted ta make out wit' me so bad, she need only ask."

And his nose met one Hell of a more tragic fate that day, as Hiyori pummeled him face first to the ground with a punch, and using her sword, continued to hit his nose blue and black all over, all the time yelling almost hysterically:

"Wh-why the fuck would I wanna make out with you, fucking dumbass?!"

It was a nasty nose-job, and it took Shinji all his strength not to cry and wince in pain as Hachi attended to his badly abused nose.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's thanks: <strong>Thanks for reading, people! To **pixiedustchoco**, thanks for reading, review and the Fav! I appreciate it. :D


End file.
